Footprints in the Sand
by lash
Summary: When Uncle Vernon orders him to help clean out the attic for Dudley’s brand new recreation room, Harry is swept into a magical world which he’d not even glimpsed at Hogwarts. He’d not glimpsed it at Hogwarts because this world starts at number four Privet
1. Lily's Wand and the Impossible Treasure

* * *

Title: Footprints in the Sand

Series: Harry Potter and the Philadelphia Raven

Author: L. Ash

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All non-original characters and situations are property of J.K. Rowling, et al. No copyright infringement is intended. No money is being made from the content below.

Summary: Harry _knows_ number four Privet Drive. It is where he grew up, after all. For ten years, he's even inhabited the cupboard under the stairs. Now that, one can imagine, means that Harry should know every nook and cranny of his home…. But Harry is in for a surprise. When Uncle Vernon orders him to help clean out the attic for Dudley's brand new recreation room, Harry is swept into a magical world which he'd not even glimpsed at Hogwarts. He'd not glimpsed it at Hogwarts… because this world _starts_ at number four Privet Drive! The bond of sisters, he finds, remains strong— if a little dusty— locked away in Petunia's attic. It is a bond that rallies the opportunistic goblins to war, drives Voldemort to bloodlust, and compels ancient societies to resurface. It is a bond that links Harry to the most unimaginable people and events, summons ghosts of the past to walk amongst the living against all odds, and commands the very nature of all things. It is the most infamous of riches this world has known. It belongs to one who hates it, relies on one who cannot use it, beguiles one who does not understand it, lies to one who cannot recognize the truth of it, and cheats one who cannot master it. Yet, Albus Dumbledore would die to protect it…. Harry doesn't stand a chance against it.

But he will leave his footprints in the sand nonetheless.

Warnings: There will be mild slash in later chapters.

* * *

Footprints in the Sand

Harry Potter and the Philadelphia Raven

Prologue

Part One:

_Lily's Wand and the Impossible Treasure_

Laurence Ashton

* * *

_Some say the world will end in fire;_

_Some say in ice._

_From what I've tasted of desire_

_I hold with those who favor fire._

_But if it had to perish twice,_

_I think I know enough of hate_

_To know that for destruction ice_

_Is also great_

_And would suffice._

—Robert Frost

"Fire and Ice"

* * *

Harry wiped the sweat from his brow with the hem of his sleeve and glowered through the dusty air at his fat cousin's arse. Both he and Dudley were assigned to clean out the attic this summer so that it could be furnished for Dudley's new game room. The agreement, between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, was that if Dudley managed to get rid of all of the neatly stacked piles of junk up there, that Uncle Vernon would present him with a game room filled to brim with video games, a pool table, and that light-up dancing game Dudley liked so much in the high street arcades. It would be a late birthday present.

Of course, Harry noted sourly, he ended up doing all of the work for this room and he wouldn't even be allowed to set foot in it after it was finished. He was absolutely cursed.

Swearing under his breath, he turned and chucked a faded old jewelry box at Dudley and laughed when he jumped, squealing with his fat fingers pressed into his bum, as he turned to glare. "Think that's funny, do you?" he demanded, his purple face turning red. "Let's see how funny it is when you're on your back looking up at me through swollen eyes."

Harry snorted. "Oh, abracadabra, and all that," he said waving a lone piece of plywood at his cousin. Harry laughed as Dudley shrunk away, a hint of fear in his eyes. "Did you know, after this year, I'll legally be allowed to perform magic during the holidays? Exciting, isn't it?"

"Daddy won't let you."

"Oh, he won't, eh? I don't rightfully see how he'd be able to stop me, what with my wand in my hand and all. Do you, Duddykins?"

"Shut up, Harry!"

"I will if you get your fat arse over here and help me clean out _your_ game room, you waster."

"Put that thing down, and I'll help you," said Dudley, warily watching the piece of wood in Harry's hands. Harry dropped it with a thud and it clattered dully on the ground, dust mites shooting up in great arcs around it and swirling in the air with glee. Harry coughed and wiped his hands on his already dirty jeans.

"You don't have to be such a prat about… _magic_," said Dudley, hesitating as he came to the word 'magic' and speaking it as a curse.

"You're a prat to me about everything else," retorted Harry. He pointed at a large box on a high shelf. "Help me get that down. Steady the ladder, would you?"

Dudley grumbled irritably but did as Harry requested. Harry climbed the ladder, and once he reached the top, stretched out and strained in order to get a good grip on the box. It came down leaving a thick grayish cloud in the air. Harry coughed and squinted his eyes.

"Get it!" he told Dudley. "I can't see!"

Coughing, Dudley removed his hands from the ladder, which wobbled in protest, and quickly grabbed the box from Harry; Harry and the ladder collapsed onto one another and Harry coughed at all the grime that assaulted his lungs.

"Curious," said Dudley, leaning over the box as he wiped off the wooden top with a dirty rag. The trunk was well-worn and old, with great brass studs along all of the seams. Looking at it, from his position on the floor, Harry was surprised that he'd gotten it from the shelf so easily. The trunk looked as if it could fit both him _and_ Dudley inside quite spaciously.

Dudley didn't bother to help Harry up, and Harry grumbled, shoving the ladder off of him, and maneuvered to his shaky feet.

"What's curious?" asked Harry as Dudley quickly lifted the lid.

Harry pulled out the first thing that he saw; it was heavy plum velvet. "It's a cloak," he told Dudley. "Like the ones I wear at school."

"This is your Mum's stuff, do you think?" asked Dudley, hesitating. A moment passed as he watched it awkwardly, but he couldn't sate his curiosity. Why would Aunt Petunia have Harry's mum's belongings? Soon, Dudley began rummaging through the box and shoving things aside carelessly. "How strange that it would be _here_. My mum hates yours."

"She couldn't possibly hate her, you dolt," said Harry with a scowl. "They were sisters, before all this."

Dudley snorted. "Well, I certainly hate you."

"I know," said Harry. "It's funny, though, because I don't hate you at all." There were much more important things to do rather than hate. There were many more healthy things to do than hate.

Dudley looked at him strangely over his shoulder, and Harry shrugged, which was enough to send Dudley scrounging through the chest once more. He sat back on his knees and showed Harry a long black box that would have gleamed beautifully if it had been polished recently. "What's in this?"

"Dunno."

"Oh," said Dudley. "Well." He opened it, exposing a sleek light brown wood with a curved handle. Harry smiled absently at it, reaching down to run his fingers over it lightly. "I know what this is," said Dudley. "It's a wand. Your mum's, I guess." He plucked it out of the box and waved it around. A screech erupted from his lips as green sparks shot out of the wand tip and he dropped it. Harry laughed as Dudley stared at it mortification, poking at it warily with his toe.

"It likes you, I suppose," said Harry. "The wand chooses the wizard, and all that." Harry picked it up and wiped it off with his shirt before holding it out. "You should keep it; might come in handy someday."

"It's dangerous."

"Really," said Harry on a heavy sigh. "Nothing's going to happen if you carry it around, Dudley. You're not even a wizard."

"So why did it do that?" demanded Dudley in righteous indignation. "It doesn't like me. Stop pointing that thing at me!"

Rolling his eyes Harry turned the wand around so that the handle was protruding.

"Why are you giving it to me?" Dudley asked with narrowed eyes. "You're trying to trick me."

"Fine," said Harry. "I'll keep it then." But before he could put it in his pocket, Dudley reached out and snatched it from him. The wand twitched in his hands and he looked down at it suspiciously. "Oink," added Harry, teasingly.

"Shut up!" said Dudley in an enraged squeak. Harry laughed and kneeled beside the trunk, curiously going through the things hidden inside. After a moment or so, Dudley knelt beside him to rummage, the wand poking out of he side pocket on his combat trousers. He pulled back a small tarnished silver case; upon opening it, a runic pendant was exposed. He shoved it towards Harry. "Wear it. Looks like it might bring bad luck." Harry glowered at him, but Dudley kept looking through the chest. Harry would put it on eventually; it was his mother's after all. But Harry would not give Dudley the satisfaction of seeing him do so.

"Hey," he said, tossing old schoolbooks aside. "This trunk is quite bigger than it looks." To prove this point, he pulled out a duffle bag, much larger than the trunk itself in its full state. Together they heaved it onto the floor and Harry scurried around to open it. Plain gold coins spilled out of it, glittering in the dim light like the candy-looking Galleons from Gringotts, but they were very different; the Ministry seal wasn't on the faces. "Wow! Look at all that gold! We're rich!" Dudley exclaimed, his eyes lighting.

"Oh how typical that I can be your cousin now," spat Harry as he watched Dudley fingering the coins with gluttonous awe on his face. "I feel right loved and cherished."

"Shut up, Harry," said Dudley, glowering over the gold at him, becoming somber. "It's fake anyway."

"It's wizard money," corrected Harry.

"So you mean it's worth something?"

"More than Muggle gold, in any case," said Harry with an awkward shrug. "You're not going to tell your parents about this, are you?" Dudley snorted and Harry wasn't at all surprised. "Not surprising. But why not? I'm sure your parents would love to buy that summer house in Majorca they've been talking about all these years; even more so with my mother's money."

"This is too good for a summer house," said Dudley, glowering at Harry. "We could open my business with this gold, and get really nice flats in London."

"We could open _your_ business?" said Harry with an arched eyebrow.

"Yeah," said Dudley, having missed Harry's tone of voice, or having ignored it. "You could even have your freak friends over once in a while. Once we leave school, of course."

"Glad to hear you have great plans for _my_ money."

"Shut up," said Dudley, beginning to scoop the gold back into sack. Harry watched as Dudley made sure he had every last coin before closing the bag tightly. "Come on," he said. "I've a friend who can drive us to London. We're going to get this money put up somewhere safe, in your magic bank or what have you."

Harry blinked and pushed himself to his feet. "We are?"

"_Yes_, Harry," said Dudley. "Don't be daft! We have to keep this secret from Mum and Dad. Who knows what they'd do with it, and then where would we be? At _university_, that's where, when I'd much rather open up my kick boxing school."

"You want to teach kids how to fight?"

"Well, it's sort of like an after school program; keep kids out of trouble, you know. But there's going to be more than kick boxing classes now, oh yes." He patted the bag lovingly. "Come on. Mum's up in the kitchen, I bet. We can sneak out the front without her seeing. You go on ahead and take this to the park. I'm going to run down and call Damien and tell him to meet us there, for a twenty piece, of course."

"Dudley, I don't think this is such a good idea, I mean it's _my_ money for one thing, and—"

"Oh, _shut up_, Harry!" said Dudley in a fierce whisper. "Do you want to keep kids clean, or not?" Dudley didn't wait for Harry's fervent answer, but instead shoved him forwards. "Come on before she sees us."

Harry numbly took up his half of the burden and lugged it downstairs. They made it to the front door when Dudley told him that he was on his own, that he had to get to the park where Damien would be waiting, and hurried back upstairs to his bedroom to use the phone.

As he lugged the heavy black bag down the street, more than once attracting a few odd stares, Harry wondered how he had got into the mess he was in. Cleaning out the attic for Dudley, although rather unpleasant, was quite fine by him to take his mind off of the events of the past few weeks, but it was starting to seem like he was force-fed much more than his stomach could handle. As he made it to the green, Harry leaned panting against the fence, and rubbed absently at his stomach as if he were going to vomit.

A black car pulled up. In it was a boy, just past driving age, and bobbing his head to blaring music. "Harry, right?" he yelled out the window. Harry nodded, feeling the bass inside his skull. The boy grinned. "Hop in!" Harry dutifully opened the car and pushed the bag inside before crawling in after it. The boy turned the music down, thankfully. "D says you need a ride to London for twenty plus gas."

"That's right," said Dudley, appearing breathlessly at the car window, his face flushed under his windswept blonde mop as if he had run. He jumped into the passenger side. "Expenses," said Dudley, handing over a wad of rolled-up money. The boy grinned and shoved the money into his pocket. Harry had never seen him before and wondered who he was.

"Let's roll then," said Damien, and screeched off with a jolt.

For most of the ride, Harry looked out of the window, but sometimes he was caught by snippets of conversation between Dudley and his friend. Harry didn't follow most of what they were talking about, not because of the worldly conversation matter, but because it was populated with names and pseudonyms for people.

"Damien went to Smeltings, Harry," said Dudley as they neared the street that housed the Leaky Cauldron. "We're pretty good friends."

Damien snorted. "Friends," he said, and Dudley grinned. Harry wondered what that was supposed to mean. "What's in the bag, Harry?"

"Socks," Harry answered without thinking, and Dudley snorted. Harry thought that that had been a pretty lame lie, and blushed slightly. "Uh, Red Sox. Game. Satellite stuff."

Damien grinned. "I get it, you know. Run along then. I'll be waiting in the car."

"Come on, Harry," said Dudley jumping out of the car. He swung open the door and dragged Harry out and got a good hold on the bag of gold as well. Harry glared at him as he stumbled and righted himself, but Dudley had slammed the doors shut, ignoring him, and started walking down the street. "It's that one there, isn't it?" he asked, pointing at the grimy-looking shop in the middle of the street. "The Leaky whatsit."

"Cauldron," said Harry darkly as Dudley pushed open the door. Few people turned their heads, and Tom grinned widely.

"Hey, Harry!" he exclaimed, hurrying over. "A bit early this year, aren't you? Haven't even got your lists yet, I don't think."

"It's… ah, something else, Tom," said Harry. Tom nodded, an understanding twinkle in his eyes. "All right, then. Good seeing you. Stop by next time you come, won't you? You know the way, I'm sure."

Harry nodded and walked out the back way. "Bunch of freaks," said Dudley lightly, and Harry glowered at him, whipping out his wand. Dudley's hand instinctively went to his although he wasn't magical, but Harry turned and tapped a brick. Magic crackled in the air as the bricks rearranged themselves into an inviting archway that led into Diagon Alley.

"This is where I come every year to get my school things," said Harry, feeling suddenly like a tour guide. "The bank is down the street."

"We'll let's get to the bank and get out of here," said Dudley, eyeing the passersby with suspicion. "I don't like it here."

"Huzzah and the secret handshake," said Harry darkly. Dudley looked at him strangely again as they neared the gleaming white bank building.

"Say what?"

"You'll have to say that once you get in there so that the goblins don't kill you," explained Harry feeling a bit better when Dudley shivered. "Very violent bunch, goblins. For the past five years in History of Magic, all we learned about was goblins and how vicious they were during the Goblin Rebellions."

Dudley gulped nervously when they reached the bank. "How does the secret handshake go?"

Harry grinned menacingly. "I would have told you, but you stole my mother's money."

"That's not funny!" said Dudley in a fierce whisper. "You could get me _killed_, you know! The goblins— _that's_ a goblin?" Harry followed Dudley's gaze to the rows of short stout creatures glaring down from their pedestals, and nodded. "Oh," said Dudley miserably. "How does that handshake go?" Harry laughed as they approached one of the tellers and Dudley squeaked out, in a despairing tone, "Huzzah and the secret handshake," and the goblin glowered at him.

"Excuse me?" demanded the goblin as Harry chuckled to himself.

"Pardon my cousin," said Harry. "He's a bit off kilter." Dudley elbowed Harry in the side in righteous indignation. "Is it possible that you could tell me something about this coin?"

Harry reached into the bag and handed it over to the teller. The goblin stared down at it, mumbling to himself, and then glowered at Harry with rage. "Is this some sort of joke?" he demanded.

Harry scrunched up his face. "No. Why?"

The goblin stepped down from its booth and came around to stand shortly before Harry and Dudley, but managed to somehow frighten them both silly. "Come with me, then," he said tersely and turned and stormed away.

"What's going on?" asked Dudley in a worried whisper as they trailed the labyrinth a few steps behind the goblin. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Harry whispered back, wondering how he'd got into this mess for the second time that day. "I'm in the same spot as you, aren't I?" Dudley glared at him and he shrugged.

"We're here," said the goblin. They turned to see an imposing oak door that creaked open of its own volition. "Inside," said the goblin before turning around and leaving them behind.

Swallowing hard, hand on his wand, Harry led the way into the darkened room. He could barely make out the messy desk surrounded by piles of coins. A frail-looking figure was hunched over on the floor, a candle in his hand as he examined a small coin.

"Excuse me, sir," said Harry. The little goblin jumped in surprise and clambered to his feet, knocking over stacks of coins as he did so. "Ah, sorry about that."

"Not a problem," squeaked the goblin. "Happens all the time. I'm Gerh, misters…"

"Harry Potter and Dudley Dursley," said Harry pointing at each of them. The goblin nodded and maneuvered through the piles to light a few torches.

"Ah, yes. What can I do for you?"

"We found some coins in my mum's trunk," said Harry, and Dudley snorted, shifting the bag over his shoulder. "We just wanted to know something about them, since… since they don't look like normal Galleons, and if they were worth something, we thought we'd put them up."

"All right then, let's see them," said the goblin. Harry handed over the coin from before and the goblin studied it, making little squeaks of surprise as he did so. Finally he looked up at Harry and straightened his glasses. "Genuine," he told them.

"It's real gold, then?" asked Dudley, a manic gleam in his eyes. The goblin shook his head and laughed a little.

"Oh, dear me, no. Not _natural_ gold, no." The goblin smiled. "It's a bit of magic gold. It comes from captured dragon fire." The goblin handed it back. "Can't buy a thing with it, though."

Dudley's face crumbled with thoughts of university. "You mean it's _worthless_!"

"Merlin, no!" said the goblin, tittering over to a chart posted on his wall. The letters were so small Harry wondered how he was able to read it at all, but the goblin hummed to himself and pointed to something on the chart. "Here it is. Pure, yellow gold, runic," Harry turned the coin over in his hands and wondered where he'd seen the runes. "Quite the find you have, Mr. Potter and Mr. Dursley. You'd do well to lock those up in a high security vault, not tell anyone you have them, and the like."

"What _is_ it, though?" asked Dudley impatiently. "Is it worth anything at all?"

"Oh, it's worth quite a lot, but I can't say how much," said the goblin. "Those are coins made from dragon fire and Veela tears. Not an ounce of nature in them." The goblin smiled at them in a friendly fashion. "Why don't you both keep one with you and put the rest of them in a vault. We've opened our new high security vaults, you know," he went on to explain in a helpful fashion that Harry found wasn't helpful at all. "Blood and tears willingly given, three keys and a specially made wand. They even have a special lockdown mechanism with immobilization dust. We check them every ten years for break-ins. I daresay you can afford it. Quite effective."

Dudley looked rather frustrated. "Why can't we buy anything with them?" he demanded. "What good is money if you can't spend it?"

The goblin looked at him for a moment, shocked. "Oh, so you don't know _what they are_?" he asked. "Dear me. I should have explained. Well, what you boys have is the Impossible Treasure."

"The what?" asked Harry, nose scrunched in confusion.

"The Impossible Treasure," said the goblin again. "Runic, you know. As good as—" The door slammed open and another goblin stormed in, this one as mean and surly as the rest of the goblin tellers.

"Have you finished with this analysis, yet?" demanded the goblin. "We've been waiting for it in conference for _three days_."

"You said you wanted a thorough—"

"I want it now!"

"All right," said Gerh, scurrying around to his desk and hastily pulling together a messy report. "All right. Have it then. Good day, sirs. One of the goblins upstairs will help you set up a new account with us."

Harry and Dudley found themselves pushed out into the hall, from where they were ushered upstairs and into a private office of another goblin, quite a mean one, to open up an account. He tried to sell them some stock as well, which Dudley gleefully accepted ten shares for fifty of Harry's Galleons each. Harry wondered why he was putting up with any of this, and when he couldn't find an answer, he resigned to sulking on the way home as the sky darkened and Dudley and Damien screamed along with the atrocious music.


	2. The Guardian

Footprints in the Sand

Harry Potter and the Philadelphia Raven

Prologue

Part Two:

_The Guardian

* * *

_

Another week had passed with Harry and Dudley struggling to finish up the attic before Dudley's birthday, and Dudley refused to talk about the Impossible Treasure whenever Harry tried to broach the subject. What he couldn't seem to figure out was how to make Dudley understand was that it was his _mother's_ money, and therefore not for Dudley to spend willy-nilly as he pleased.

They were on their way to having a new attic, having cleaned out the rest of it, hiding Harry's mother's belongings up in Harry's wardrobe, and had moved on to cleaning away the cobwebs and dust so that the painters and decorators could come in. Now, it seemed, Dudley was actually willing to let Harry upstairs with him when the room was finished, and scowling, Harry understood just why, as unwilling benefactor of _After the Bell_, Dudley's after school program.

It was on this day, when Harry couldn't find it in him to stop sneezing, and Dudley started to feel a bit dizzy, that they trudged a bit of dirt down into Aunt Petunia's spotless kitchen. Aunt Petunia startled and looked at them with slightly unfocused eyes.

"Taking a break?" asked Aunt Petunia from where she stood at the counter, making sandwiches for lunch. Dudley nodded. "Clean up, then, and have something to eat."

They both did as she said, running up to the bathroom to wash their faces and hands and try to remove some of the grime from their clothes. They returned together, and Aunt Petunia already had the table set with plates of food and juice, and they both dug in, ravenous after all the hard work.

"You know," said Aunt Petunia. "Your father told you to make sure you got rid of everything up there, but there are a few things that I want. You haven't dumped any trash yet, have you?"

"No," said Dudley. "Damien's going to take it to the dump for me at the end of the week. What did you want? We'll get it out of the garage this afternoon."

"A few things," said Aunt Petunia, watching as they devoured sandwich after sandwich. "I'll make some more," she said, rising and going back over to the refrigerator. Neither one stopped her. "There's a jewelry box that I want. It's old, probably faded and scratched badly. It was a deep mahogany once, and it has gilt on the side spelling out Evans."

Harry nodded, remembering the jewelry box he'd thrown at Dudley. "I know where that is," he told her.

"Good," she said. "I need it." Harry blinked. "And I also need a chest. It was up on the top shelf, and, oh I don't know, did you boys open it at all?"

Harry stopped mid bite and looked over at Dudley whose hand went around, pulling his shirt out of his trousers so as to cover the wand sticking out of his back pocket. Aunt Petunia interrupted them with a fake cough.

"I suppose you have, then," she said tersely. "I need it back."

"Okay, Mum," said Dudley. "We were just, you know, trying to separate the junk, that's all."

Aunt Petunia narrowed her eyes at them. "The junk," she said tightly. "Oh, I see. My dead sister's belongings are _not_ junk." Both boys blinked at her in confusion. It used to be that she pretended that she didn't even have a sister, and now, all of a sudden, Lily Evans's property held some sentimental value to her. Harry scowled. "Where is it?"

"In my wardrobe," said Harry. "I didn't think you'd want it."

"If that was the case, I'd have thrown it all away when she gave it to me," retorted his aunt, crossing her arms over her chest. "Get it. Now. Both of you."

Neither Harry nor Dudley spoke until they reached the sanctity of Harry's tiny bedroom. Harry yanked open the wardrobe and glowered at Dudley. "I told you it was a bad idea, he said. She's bound to go through and make sure everything's there. Put the wand back, at least."

"No," said Dudley. "It's mine! It likes me!"

"Dudley!" whispered Harry. "Your mum's bound to be angry enough as it is when she finds out what we've done with the gold. Don't make it worse. Put it back. You can steal it back from her later, or something."

"It's mine," said Dudley. "She hasn't looked at it in who knows how many years. I'm keeping it."

Harry glared at Dudley, but said no more as they labored to bring the trunk downstairs. Aunt Petunia did go through it, right there on the kitchen table, all thoughts of lunch forgotten.

"The wand is missing," she said tightly, glaring at them both. "And so is all of the money. Care to explain why?"

"I have the wand," said Dudley, producing it from his back pocket. "It likes me." Aunt Petunia snatched it out of his hand so fast that she left behind a red welt. Dudley glowered at her. "I want to keep it."

"Dudley," said Aunt Petunia in a tone of voice she usually reserved for Harry. "Go to your room until your father gets home."

"I want to keep it," said Dudley resolutely, but when Aunt Petunia ignored him again, he grumbled that he would get it back and stormed off to his bedroom in indignation.

"Aunt Petunia," began Harry. "We didn't think—"

"Of course you didn't think, you wretched boy," she spat, knocking over the trunk with a strained shove so that all of its contents spilled onto the kitchen table. "You never think of anything. You always just _assume_. Do you think that I want you here, that I'm happy looking at you and seeing my dead sister and all of the stupid mistakes she's made? I always had to clean up after her messes, did you know? _Always_. And I'm damned tired of doing it for you as well."

"What are you talking about?" asked Harry, his eyes trailing down to his mother's things on the table. "I don't understand—" Aunt Petunia reached out and snapped the pendant from around his neck.

"You wouldn't," she said. "You didn't sit there for hours listening to what all of this stuff meant to her. You didn't take lessons an entire summer so that you'd know how to use it all, when the time came. _You_ don't know _anything_."

"Well I'm not likely to know anymore with you not explaining it to me, am I?" said Harry in irritation. "What are you talking about?"

"My sister, you idiot boy. You don't know anything about her."

"I don't know a lot about her, but I love her anyway," spat Harry. "Why do you think you have some divine right to all of her things from Hogwarts when you _hate_ her?"

Aunt Petunia slapped him, very hard, and for the first time in his life. Harry blinked at her in surprise, but she didn't seem at all moved, and glowered at him.

"Shut up," she told him darkly. "What did you do with my gold?"

"Is that all that you care about?" said Harry, his face turning red from more than the slap. "Is that what all this is about? Money?"

"Tell me where it is!" screamed Aunt Petunia in a rage.

Harry blinked at her, unmoving. "No," he said.

For a moment she looked ready to hit him again, but she stepped away. "Where is your damned bird?" she demanded. Harry knew that she already knew Hedwig was locked away in her cage, only allowed out at nights when the neighbors were unlikely to see her.

"Upstairs," he said.

Aunt Petunia stormed past him, and Harry heard the none-too-subtle sounds of Dudley scampering off the steps from where he listened and hurrying into his room. Only after Hedwig had been gone a good ten minutes was Harry allowed into his own inner sanctum, and not allowed out again.

The door crept open, and Dudley peeked his round head inside. "She's locked herself in the garage. She's going through everything in there to see what else we might have taken."

"I told you it was a bad idea."

"Bah," said Dudley waving his hand and plopping down heavily on Harry's tiny bed. "She'll get over it," he said. "She gave me my wand back; said that if I lost or broke it, she'd kill me, but that I could hold onto it a little while longer." Dudley sighed and fell back. "I wonder if this means that I can't have my game room, after all that work."

Harry kicked him hard in the knee. "I did most of the hard work," said Harry bitterly.

Dudley shrugged. "We've been put under house arrest until Dad comes home," he said. "I can't believe it. Mum never punishes us."

Harry snorted. "Uncle Vernon never punishes you, either," said Harry. "I'm the only one who gets in trouble around here."

"But stick to it, Harry," said Dudley. "Don't give up the money, understand? We _need_ that, and she hasn't even done anything with it. It just sat there, collecting dust—"

The door practically exploded inwards and Harry grabbed at his heart as he gawked at the figure standing there, the bag of coins in his hand. With a malicious sneer, he turned the bag over and the coins fell onto the floor, Aunt Petunia glowered at Harry over the man's shoulder.

"Read it," said Snape tossing a coin that Harry deftly caught. Harry stared down at the little scratches on the gold that hadn't been there before, and looked back up at Snape blankly. "Oh. I forgot," he said, stepping over the coins and coming into Harry's bedroom. "You can't, can you?"

Harry blinked at the coins. "That wasn't there before."

"No, it wasn't, you idiot boy," spat Snape, snatching the coins from his hands, "because you didn't know that it was there. Do you have any idea what you could have done?" he demanded, hovering over them both with a maniacal gleam in his eyes. "If you hadn't gone to the bloody _goblins_, if you had tried to _spend_ it, like the simpleton that you truly are…. The Order could have been discovered because of your foolishness. Wasn't it enough to get Black killed?"

Harry stared at him, mouth gaping wide open in shock. His breathing was short and quick, and he felt his hand darting to the wand in his pocket, but Snape seized his wrist.

"Try anything and I will truly have you expelled for your insolence and your idiocy," he said, breathing down Harry's neck through his flared nostrils. "Do it, boy. I dare you."

Harry's hand fell limp but he glared at Snape. "You're not worth it."

"Contrary, Mr. Potter, it is _you_ who are not worth _my_ efforts," spat Snape. "You've put your entire family in danger, you know. Not to mention the Order. And still, I waste my time cleaning up after your stupid mistakes. Do you want it to be all for nothing then, your mother's sacrifice?"

"Don't bring her into this—"

"It's _all_ about her, Harry," said Aunt Petunia darkly. "Or haven't you figured that out yet?" She glared at both of the boys on the bed, Harry who felt indignation swelling up in his chest, and Dudley who cowered before Snape in all of his menacing ugliness. "Pack your things, both of you. We can't stay here any longer. Severus has come to take us away."

Harry spluttered. "_What_?" he demanded, jumping up and facing Aunt Petunia.

"I told you," said Snape. "You put them all in danger, running off with the Impossible Treasure. It was _safe_ here, with your Aunt, until you took it to the globins."

"But," said Harry confusedly. "You said that taking it to the goblins was better than spending it!"

"Yes, but I never said that taking it to the goblins was a good idea," said Snape. "I had a hard enough time getting it _back_ from them. They're irate. They hate the way the Ministry treats them, but I don't suppose you spent much time paying attention in History of Magic class, else you might already know that."

"But what does this have to do with us?"

"If they join with the Dark Lord, Mr. Potter," said Snape slowly, as if he were speaking to a particularly daft child, "they will have all the information that they'll need to stage an attack. They do not need to enter the correct house in order to blow up the entire street. The blast alone would kill you, which, I'm sure, would cause the Dark Lord and his allies to rejoice. Now _pack your things_."

Harry grumbled as he moved around his room throwing his belongings into his school trunk as Snape watched. Aunt Petunia had already packed some possessions for her and Uncle Vernon to take, or so she said, and instead went to help Dudley.

"Where are we going, Professor?" asked Harry as he fished under his bed for any stray socks. "Hogwarts? 12 Grimmauld Place?"

"Hardly," said Snape; Harry could hear the sneer in his voice. "No, Potter, you won't be seeing your little friends today. Perhaps, if you're a good boy, I might take you along when I go to meetings, but even then it's unlikely." Harry turned to glare at him, but was shocked to find a sadistic little smile on Snape's lips. "No, I suppose you'll simply have to get along with Draco, instead."

"Draco?" squeaked Harry, grabbing Hedwig's cage. "Draco Malfoy?"

"Why, yes," said Snape. "You and your family will be staying at Malfoy Manor," he said. "You might not have heard, but I've been his active guardian since the end of term. It was necessary that one of the members of the Order claim him. Dumbledore pressed Fudge into naming me his guardian rather than his distant cousin Johannes under the pretenses that, as a dear family friend, and his godfather, I'd prove to provide a more _caring_ atmosphere for him in his trying time."

"Why didn't he just stay with his mother?" asked Harry.

"She was sent to Azkaban with the other Death Eaters," said Snape. "She was a less involved member, not in the inner circle, but she _was_ a member." He paused. "Those captured and proven guilty were Kissed under right of treason."

"Kissed?" asked Harry, pausing before he shut his trunk.

"Indeed," said Snape. "Be cautious what you say to him. He's been in a mood, lately." With that, Snape swirled around and left the room, Harry trailing after. They met up with Aunt Petunia and Dudley on the front lawn. "Ministry approved cars are taking us to the Portkey spot. Petunia, you've Portkey'd before, haven't you?" Harry gasped in shock as Aunt Petunia nodded. "Explain it to your son, if you would."

Two black cars pulled up. The first car already held a bunch of people whom Harry didn't know. "They're going to gather more of your belongings," Snape explained to Petunia. He pointed at the other, empty car. "We're going to take this one."

Harry sat in the back with Dudley, and was oddly surprised to find that Snape knew how to drive. For some strange reason, he figured that Snape, as an orthodox wizard, would rely more heavily on traditionally wizarding means of transportation, not the muggle adaptations.

They arrived at a dingy store in London. Snape pulled to a stop and ushered them inside. It was small and filthy and smelled slightly of stale cookies. Harry scrunched up his nose, and followed Snape all the way to the back. A man in a green uniform with a bright yellow M emblazoned on it greeted them.

"Malfoy Manor, right?" asked the man in a squeaky voice that didn't fit his face. Snape nodded. "Right over there. The old tire."

"Gather around," said Snape. "Keep your hands on your luggage at all times, and one hand on the tire." Harry did as he was told, and felt that uncomfortable hook in his belly button pulling him forward. He shook his head as the world swirled, and he felt his feet land with a thud on lush carpeting. Harry blinked, and took a few breaths to steel himself because he felt wobbly and dizzy from the Portkey and nauseous from standing in Draco Malfoy's house. He found the understated elegance to be smothering. The house had a subtle personality that would kill, if given the chance. Harry hated the polished woods, the refined colors, the crystal and tapestries and the impression that the house was being _restrained_.

A house-elf stood before them, dressed in a white loincloth. It smiled at them widely.

"Master Snape!" it squeaked. Aunt Petunia and Dudley stared at it rather oddly, but Harry supposed they would get quite used to the sight of such things. "Lissy is preparing the rooms you requested, sir. They is ready."

"Good," said Snape. "Take these bags." Lissy the house-elf bowed low and snapped his fingers. The luggage levitated and disappeared with a pop after the elf. "This will be your home until we can find you more suitable quarters," said Snape. "If any of you run into Draco, I'd advise you to turn around and go the other way."

"Who's Draco?" asked Dudley, sounding more curious than frightened.

"The master of this house," said Snape shortly. "I'll show you to your—"

"Honestly, Severus, you'll give them the wrong impression about me," said the same cool drawl Harry recognized from school. Dread dropped into the pit of Harry's stomach as Draco made himself visible from the shadows. Draco's nose twitched, as if he had smelled something rather unpleasant, and his eyes roved over Harry's family with judgement. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor," he said in a polite manner that made them know that they really weren't welcomed at all. "I do hate to sound terribly impolite, but there are a few things which you must first know _before_ I can let you roam the halls."

"We can go over this later, Draco. Wouldn't you like to let your guests _rest_ first?"

Draco blinked and drew back. He lifted his hand as if he had planned to reach out, but hesitated, and grabbed at a serpent's head on the mantle instead; the head shifted down easily, as if it were a hidden lever. It blinked its wooden eyes slowly, and came alive, much to Aunt Petunia's distaste.

"Master," said the snake in plain English, which surprised Harry. "What do you wish of me?"

"Call for Marie," said Draco, never turning his gaze away from the plainly Muggle Dursleys. The snake slithered and turned completely around, its tail flicking out as it disappeared into the grand woodwork. It appeared moments later, and a woman hurried into the room, her hair pushed back into a tight bun, and a pristine apron tied around her black robes. "Marie, would you spare your time to aid Mrs. Dursley as she becomes accustomed to the manor." He paused, and said, condescension in his eyes as he finally did look away. "She may also need your wand as she is unable to perform magic herself."

"Draco," said Snape. "Don't you have anything else that you could be doing? Certainly your grades would fare better if you studied at all." But as Snape said this, there was no derision in his eyes, only this helpless sort of pleading meanness. "You won't always be able to succeed without toil, you know."

"You can if you've money to toil for you," he said and turned on his heel.

"That's Draco," said Snape, looking over at Aunt Petunia and Dudley in a warning manner. "Do heed my advice. He's not always quite so welcoming."

"_That_ was welcoming?" said Dudley loudly in shock. "Bloody hell!"

"Watch your mouth, Dudley!" said Aunt Petunia sharply. "We'll just have to make do. Both of you would do well to leave that boy alone. He's horrid."

"Don't speak so of the master," said the maid with an Irish lilt, whom everyone had forgot was still standing there. "He's just terribly upset and confused. He's lost both his parents barely last week! He's an uplifting presence, usually. Give him time."

Harry snorted to think of Draco Malfoy as uplifting, but Snape sighed heavily, as if he wanted to agree with Marie but could not find the words. Finally he said. "Marie, show them to their rooms. You're aware of the places Draco was talking about, I'm sure, so let them know their bounds. I've got to go pick up the other Dursley."

Marie nodded and Snape touched the tire once again. Harry supposed that he was transported back to the tiny shop.

He'd known that taking that money was a bad idea. He knew it, yet he couldn't find it in himself to _stop_ it. Now look what it got him: a summer with Malfoy and Snape. Oh, the joys of idiocy.


	3. Fidelius and the Ring

Footprints in the Sand

Harry Potter and the Philadelphia Raven

Prologue

Part Three:

_Fidelius and the Ring

* * *

_

Harry sat with Dudley under a grand oak tree, relishing the coolness from the shade, and pulling blades of grass and watching them float away on the wind. Their backs were to the tree, and if they wanted to see each other as they were speaking there was a lot of strained turning involved, so mostly Harry looked at the gleaming manor that was a little way off and Dudley looked at whatever.

"So," said Dudley. "This Voldemort fellow, who everybody's afraid of, is trying to kill you? And this bloke up there is the son of one of his prominent, now incapacitated, followers? And we're staying in his _house_?"

"Exactly," said Harry in a glum sort of voice. He pulled a little more viciously at the next handful of grass.

"That's complete idiocy!" said Dudley. "I don't care if this Snape fellow _does_ know my mum from somewhere, it'll get us _killed_. And Dad _agreed_ to it!"

"Absolutely preposterous, isn't it?" said a crackling voice from above them. Harry jolted and stared up, but found only vibrant greenery.

"Who said that?" he demanded, rising and grabbing at his wand. Dudley followed his lead, and Harry wondered why he actually insisted on reaching for a wand that he couldn't even use. It's not like he could ever _bluff_ a Dark wizard.

"I did," said the same voice and the leaves shook. "Me. I'm Greenleaf."

Harry blinked, and Dudley said, confusion written all over his plump face, "Are you the _tree_?"

"Of course," said that voice again. "Did you expect a squirrel to answer you back?"

Dudley yelped. "But," he said, stuck in the land of reasoning, "you're a _tree_! You can't talk!"

"I must admit, even I've never heard of a talking tree, and we're bound to have one at Hogwarts," said Harry, not knowing where to look— at the branches or the trunk or the leaves. "A fighting one, yes, but never one that _talked back_."

"Tosh," said the tree. "All the trees and flowers at Malfoy Manor are animated. Quite the effective defense mechanism, but when Malfoy started using it for evil, we stopped talking to him. We only talk to the squirt anymore, but he's not come out all summer. Have you seen him?"

"Actually we make it a point to avoid him."

"Been annoying, has he?" said the tree. Harry grinned inwardly to think that even the trees thought Draco Malfoy was a bother. "When he was a child he used to scratch up my bark. I've got terrible scars that spell out his name in unmentionable places…. Of course, he's rather grown out of that. Prevented his father from cutting us down and getting new saplings planted, he has. Rather good of him."

Dudley scrunched up his face. "Why would his father cut you down to get new ones?"

"Oh, so that he could manipulate them," said the tree. "Terrible man, his father…. Encouraged Draco to practice archery with poor Maple instead of the targets when she stopped talking to him…. We'd hear her moaning about her wounds all night."

"Curious," said Harry.

"But don't talk to that bunch of trees closest to the pitch. And you'd best not say anything at all when coming or leaving through the front. They're the new ones Lucius planted. Right mean, they are." The tree paused. "There are a few saplings that Draco tended, though, just last year. They're out by the lake."

"The lake?" asked Dudley curiously. "There's a lake on the grounds?"

"Yes," said the tree guardedly. "But if you're planning to go swimming, it's not wise. That's for boating only. Swim in the pool inside. Much, much safer."

Harry wanted to ask why it was so dangerous to go into the lake, but on an afterthought decided that he didn't really want to know. They thanked the tree, and talked to it a bit more, but soon wandered back up to the house to have some lunch.

"I never thought I'd be able to tolerate spending so much time with you," said Harry. Dudley grinned. "No, seriously. You're rather annoying. I could never stomach it before."

"Be still my beating heart," said Dudley, rolling his eyes. "You know, I'd really like to pound that little brat."

"You're one to talk about being a brat," said Harry. "You're almost as big a brat as he is."

"But not quite. And I'm a boxer. I could take him."

Harry rolled his eyes. "What do you want to do this afternoon, then? I'm rather reluctant to go back outside now that I know the trees speak English. Maybe if they spoke German or something…."

"German?" snorted Dudley. "Why German?" Harry shrugged and continued eating. "We could go find that pool Greenleaf talked about."

"Pool, did you say?" asked a plump woman with a warm smile. She looked over at them with twinkling eyes. "Are you finished, young masters? Or is there something else that I could get for you?"

"No," said Harry. "No, thank you."

She shooed their hands away as they tried to help clean up their small mess, saying that it was her job to do the cleaning. "About that pool," she said. "It's down three flights and past the archives on the right. You'll make a left turn, and there it'll be, waiting for you."

Dudley grinned. "Thank you," he said and darted off. Harry followed, throwing his thanks over his shoulder. They followed the woman's instructions and threw the door open in victory, but stopped suddenly. Draco Malfoy was already there, sitting on the edge at the middle of the pool. Harry inwardly snorted, thinking that Malfoy would be the only person to wear jewelry while swimming.

"Are you planning to stand there and gawk all day?" demanded Malfoy, looking up at them. "It's rather rude, you know."

"Sorry," said Harry as Dudley growled beside him. "We didn't know you were down here."

"Obviously," said Draco. "Or I daresay you wouldn't have come."

"Are you bitter about that?" asked Harry, eyebrow arched in challenge.

"Hardly," said Draco. He paused, his head cocked with silver hair falling into his eyes. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to turn tail and run like Snape said?"

"I don't like Snape," said Harry, "so I don't listen to what he has to say…. And it's hot, and I'm not going to let _you_ ruin a perfectly good swim in an amazing pool." Harry purposefully strode over to the door that led into the changing rooms. He could hear Dudley's thundering footsteps behind him. "Fucking git," swore Harry under his breath as he changed.

"Are you sure Snape would be really angry if I pounded him?" asked Dudley. "I won't kill him or anything, just teach him a really good lesson."

"I'd help you," swore Harry fervently. "By Merlin, something's definitely wrong with this universe anytime I'm on _your_ side." Dudley snorted. "Come on."

By the time they'd made it back to the pool, Draco was lying at the edge, swirling his hand in the water and staring at it almost listlessly.

"What's the matter, Draco?" said Harry. "Can't swim?"

Draco turned to look at him with an angry gaze, and he said, in cool tones, "My cousin _drowned_ in this pool." Harry blanched, suddenly not willing to set foot into the water, and staring at Draco strangely. "What's the matter, Potter? Afraid?"

"You'd better not be fucking with me Malfoy," said Harry, watching as Draco rolled to his feet and walked over to the diving board. "That's not funny."

"Oh, no, it was quite horrifying to see, actually," said Draco before he dove in. Harry swallowed heavily, feeling bile rising up in his throat. Next to him, Dudley was still with disbelief. Draco came up in the middle of the pool and tread water. "It was a punishment for failing Him." Harry hadn't needed to ask who _He_ was. "In fact, it was a punishment for my only uncle; he used to live here, but he's dead now; he wasted away after what happened to Theodosius…." Draco swam over to the edge and bobbed before Harry and Dudley, his silver eyes narrowing. "_I_ was supposed to be tortured to death, did you know? My parents' punishment for failing Him as well…." He pushed away from the side. "There's a Fidelius, now. The Portkey was from Dumbledore, but I suppose you didn't know that. You don't know anything; you just assume you do." He paused. "This house tells me everything." Harry and Dudley still stood there, staring at him. "You can get in, you know. Theodosius drowned years ago. We've had it done over three times since then. It hardly looks the same to me anymore."

Dudley was the first to move. He jumped into the pool, and upon hearing his splash, Harry did so as well. Draco had taken to avoiding them by doing laps, but that didn't matter so much to Harry. He and Dudley splashed around and dove and swam some, but with no form or care.

"What should we do after this?" asked Dudley, sounding a bit bored already as he turned onto his back and floated. Harry watched Draco hop out of the pool, dripping water all over, and shrugged.

"Dunno," he said. "I don't likely know anything there is _to_ do, do I?" he asked, pointedly glaring in Draco's direction. Malfoy looked at him and walked over to the changing rooms. "You're a prat, you know that, Malfoy!"

Draco emerged moments later, his hair dripping water down his bare back; he was only wearing a pair of trousers. Tossing his towel on the floor thoughtlessly, he shrugged. "Is that supposed to make me _want_ to give you something to do? Is that supposed to make me realize the error of my ways and be your _friend_?"

"I wouldn't accept your friendship," said Harry. "I just want to know how I can get out of your hair and keep you out of mine."

"Oh," said Draco. "Then why don't you die?" he suggested and turned to leave, still barefoot.

"You're not even going to clean up your mess, are you?" asked Harry. "You're a selfish bastard."

"Yes, but I'm a selfish bastard with house-elves and maids," said Draco. "I _pay_ my servants to clean up after me. What part of that don't you understand?"

"The part where you get to be rude."

"Tosh," said Draco, and turned away.

"Hey, that's the same thing that the tree said!" Dudley observed. Draco turned slowly back around and glared at them. Harry wondered what it was about those trees that had Draco all in a huff. "It got it from you, didn't it?"

"Or he picked it up from _them_," said Harry. "Your only friends, were they?"

"My pets," said Draco tightly. "Stay away from them, and stay away from me. Snape didn't _tell_ you, did he? He didn't say _why_ you should turn tail and run from me."

"Because you're an annoying bastard," supplied Dudley, grinding his fists. "I'd love to beat you."

"Hit me?" said Draco with a scoff. "Nobody can get _near_ me!"

"We were just in the pool with you, if you failed to notice," said Harry slowly. "I think that constitutes being near you, Malfoy."

Draco shook his head. "That's different."

"I don't bloody well see how," said Dudley. "You're bluffing so that I don't trounce you."

"Don't you see it?" asked Draco in an irritatingly annoyed voice. "It's the first thing that anybody looks for anymore. They want to know if I'm wearing it."

"Wearing what, Malfoy?" asked Harry impatiently, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes, and shifting, quite tired of Malfoy's games. Draco lifted his hand and showed them the ring that Harry had noticed while Malfoy sat on the edge. Looking at it closer, though, Harry could see that it looked exactly like one of those coins he and Dudley found in his mother's trunk. "What _is_ that? Where did you get it?" demanded Harry.

"Dumbledore gave it to me," said Draco with a shrug.

"Why?" asked Dudley curiously, eyeing it suspiciously. Harry wondered for a brief moment what he was thinking. "What's it do?"

"Merlin," said Draco. "You're both daft." He turned on his heel and headed straight for the door.

"Where are you going?" asked Harry.

"Away," said Malfoy. Harry and Dudley exchanged glances and ran into the changing room to put on their clothes. When they came out, Malfoy was gone, but they did manage to catch up with him on the stairs without much trouble.

"What's going on?" asked Harry. "What happened? Why did Dumbledore give you that ring?"

"Why?" sneered Draco. "Look familiar, you little idiot? Turned them over to the goblins, I hear. It's like showing up on the Dark Lord's doorstep and saying, 'Gee, sir, I'd rather like you to kill me now.' You're a moron, Potter, do you know that? And if you haven't figured out by now—"

"Draco, that's enough," said a familiar voice ahead of them. Harry looked up and saw Tonks and Moody in the corridor. "Leave Harry alone, would you?" Tonks continued sharply.

"You've got the wrong one, cousin; he's bothering me," spat Draco at the green-haired Tonks. He looked her over and glared at her muddy boots. "What were you doing? Rolling around in that Weasley sty again?"

"Shut up about the Weasleys, Draco," growled Moody, his magical eye gleaming at the ringed hand in Draco's trouser pocket. Next to him, Harry heard Dudley gasp with recognition and step back. "Swimming, were you?" Moody asked Draco, ignoring Harry's plump cousin for the moment.

"Yes."

"It's good for you," said Moody. "But you didn't let those two in with you, did you?" Draco shrugged.

"Merlin, Draco, what were you thinking?" demanded Tonks in an outraged voice Harry had never heard her use before. "Don't be an idiot! You _know_ how dangerous—"

"I was wearing my ring," said Draco, "and if they suddenly dropped dead, then… I'd have the pool to myself, relatively speaking."

Tonks raised her hand as if to slap him, but Moody grabbed her by the wrist. She glowered at Moody in a way that said _thanks_, and yanked her hand free. "You deserved everything you got, Draco," said Tonks in menacing voice. "You're incorrigible, and you deserved _every_ minute."

"Tosh," said Draco and she narrowed her eyes at him. "It's good to hear you've only got my best interest at heart, cousin." He paused. "Nothing would've happened to them. It's bad form to have guests dropping dead at every turn. Although, it would keep the riffraff away…. If only I were so lucky."

"Thank your lucky stars for the ones you so callously term the riffraff, Draco," said Moody. "You'd have missed them if they didn't turn up when they did."

"Dear me, a lengthy visit with Grandmother Black and Uncle Theodosius," said Draco. "How I fear it."

"Draco," said the smoothly menacing voice of Professor Snape from behind them. Harry turned to see Snape and Uncle Vernon standing there, Uncle Vernon quite purple-faced, and Snape sneering. "Aren't you supposed to be swimming now?"

"The water's cold," said Draco, which surprised Harry because he found the water to be nicely warm.

"Still," said Snape. "I'd like to know that you _do_ swim when I tell you to. Go, now. And stay there for another two hours."

"I'll freeze," said Draco.

Snape's lips twitched. "How terribly tragic. Run along before I do something rather unpleasant instead."

"Fucking tell me what to do," said Draco darkly as he turned around towards the pool.

"Severus, we need to speak with him regarding his, ah, inheritance."

"Go on, then. Use the deck if you please. Make sure he actually _gets_ _in_ the water, would you?"

"Certainly," said Tonks, taking some sort of sadistic pleasure in that. "What say you, Moody?" Mad-Eye nodded, and they both followed after Draco.

"As for you two," said Snape in the same menacing tones he used with Draco. "I do recall telling you to _stay away_ from the boy."

"Yes, but we hadn't expected him to be down at the pool," said Harry. "The tree told us—"

"The _tree_ told you?" interrupted Uncle Vernon, his mustache twitching. Harry grimaced and looked at his Uncle, who looked rather irate. "Dudley. Is what he says true, about talking trees?"

"Of course it is," said Snape smoothly. "You forget where you are, Muggle." Uncle Vernon glowered at Snape's greasy head. "So, you were talking to Draco's trees. More stupidity," sneered Snape. "Next you'll be conversing with the statues and the suits of armor."

Harry's gaze darted to the serpents carved into the railings of all the staircases in the house and grimaced. He should have known, of course, once he'd seen the serpents in the mantle. There was nothing pleasant about this house, nothing private. Harry wondered how anyone could live here comfortably. Already Harry felt he'd rather take his chances with the goblins.

"They _talk_?" Dudley gasped.

"Mm. Very well, actually," said Snape. "But only to Draco. They listen to everyone else."

"How do you get any privacy around here, then?"

"You find the right places, or the right people," said Snape. "I don't suppose I'll have to tell you again to stay away from Draco. Doing so will put me in rather a bad mood, Mr. Potter. And we both know how those turn out." Snape loomed overhead for a moment and Harry gulped. "Vernon," said Snape sharply. "Come along."

Harry and Dudley waited until Snape and Uncle Vernon were out of earshot. "What's going on with Draco, I wonder?" said Dudley. "That water wasn't anywhere near cold!"

"I know," said Harry. "And I didn't like the way that Snape acted about it, loathe as I am to say. It _was_ a bit harsh, and really, everything Draco said was in jest, for him, at least. I think."

"Psychotic humor," said Dudley. "Another reason why we shouldn't be here in the first place. This place is crawling with homicidal maniacs… and here, I'm missing my programs."

Harry ignored that last comment. "Are you willing to find out what's up with Draco, then? We could go visit him tonight, in his bedroom, and ask."

"How are we going to get there with no one finding out, though?" asked Dudley. "You heard what Snape said. Everything here that's supposed to be inanimate is animate. I bet he'll find us out before we even figure out where Draco's room actually _is_!"

"I have an Invisibility Cloak," said Harry. "That should keep them from seeing us, and if they can't hear us speaking…. It's worth a shot, don't you think?"

Dudley grinned. "I'm game," he said. "Damien would just _die_. Covert operations, and such as they are. He always wanted to be a spy, but…. didn't really have the grades for, well, anything decent really. Especially not Chemistry. The Career Counselor at school said he'd make a very capable hoodlum or janitor…. I think he's going for the hoodlum."

"Why does he hang out with _you_? Doesn't he have any friends his own age?"

Dudley started and looked at Harry oddly; he looked away quickly, and blushed to the tips of his ears. "Actually I'm the one who sort of hangs out with him. —In a way.— Maybe…." Dudley started down the corridor and Harry hurried to catch up with him. "I don't want to talk about it…. What do you say we raid the kitchen? Swimming makes me hungry."

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. "_Breathing_ makes you hungry, Dudley. You glutton."

Dudley glowered at him. "At least I _have_ some meat on my bones!" he defended hotly. "Unlike _you_, I might add, with your knobbly knees."


End file.
